His Christmas Angel
by Miss Hal Gibson
Summary: She had always told him to believe. Even when he had been bullied and teased in school for believing in Santa Clause, she had always said "Theodore, keep on believing, don't listen to what they say. They lost their Christmas spirit, don't let them take yours."


**AN: I got bored earlier today, so I wrote a little Christmas fic that popped into my head. This is the first time I've written a full out Theonor story, so bare with me. I didn't proofread this, so pardon any errors. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. ENJOY!**

* * *

He hated Christmas, ever since that day. It was funny, he never thought himself capable of hate. Nobody else did, either. But now, with each passing Christmas, the despair and the hatred grew.

He watched his brothers spend Christmas with her sisters, hiding the slight jealousy he felt that they were still there with them. He would never wish anything bad on his siblings or hers, but he still felt that pang of jealousy every time he watched them, kissing under the mistletoe.

Year after year he watched their children run around under the Christmas tree, singing happy Christmas tunes, tearing into the expensive gifts their mother and father had bought for them.

He remembered when he had that twinkle in his eye. He had kept it there, long into adulthood. He kept on believing in Santa Clause, in happily ever after, in the Christmas spirit.

That twinkle had long since dwindled down to nothing, leaving pure despair in his eyes. They now only shimmered with unshed tears.

* * *

He had hoped to spend Christmas with her that year. She had been feeling fine, she had said. She promised she would be okay. She told him she would be there to sip hot chocolate and bake cookies and open presents with him that year. He, in his nativity, believed her. He believed in everything.

She obviously hadn't had it in her kind heart to tell him otherwise. She had always told him to believe. Even when he had been bullied and teased in school for believing in Santa Clause, she had always said "Theodore, keep on believing, don't listen to what they say. They lost their Christmas spirit, don't let them take yours."

He felt a tear roll down his cheek as he remembered the way she looked at him when she said that. She once told him she admired him for the beliefs that had been forced out of her when she was young.

* * *

She admired him. She actually looked up to him. He didn't want to cry right now, he cried way too much. He didn't want to upset anyone else. He upset himself enough.

As he sat there, attempting to hold back his tears, a small sob managed to get through. He opened his eyes to see big blue ones staring back at him.

"Uncle Theodore, what's wrong?" He now noticed that his oldest nephew, Alvin Jr., was sitting in his lap. As he stared back at the child he couldn't help but feel his despair growing within him.

These children would never know her. They were too young when she passed on. They would never see her smile, or the warm glow in her beautiful brown eyes. They would never taste her cooking or feel her unforgettable hugs.

He couldn't answer that question. He couldn't ruin Christmas for everyone by bringing up the subject they all dreaded.

She was gone, and he would have to live with it. He choked back another sob as he remembered that night.

* * *

She hadn't called. He was worried about her, her sisters were worried about her. It was Christmas Eve. Normally, she'd have been out the door by then, carrying a huge bag of presents and dressed in a Santa Clause suit, complete with beard. Her sisters tried telling her she should dress up as Mrs. Clause, and get him to dress up as Santa. She'd just laugh and tell them how much she enjoyed dressing up like that every year. Oh, how he loved her laugh.

She hadn't been feeling her best that year. She said she was only a little under the weather, and she'd be fine by Christmas. He, of course, believed her. Eleanor told no lies, in his eyes.

Once midnight, Christmas, hit, and she had still not called, he decided to go see her. He brought her Poinsettias, the Christmas flower. She loved flowers. When he brought her flowers she'd always attempt to plant them in her garden, even when they wouldn't grow. She was pretty good at gardening, but then, she was good at almost everything.

She didn't come to the door when he knocked. He found that rather strange, normally she was up and about the house, and it took her only a few seconds to get to the door. He got in with the spare key, the one she kept hidden on top of the window sill.

He had first suggested for her to put it under the doormat, but she told him that's where everyone put it, so that was the first place a burglar would look. He felt rather dumb when she pointed that out to him, but she just giggled and kissed his cheek.

* * *

When he entered the house the familiar scent entered his nose. Eleanor's house always smelled like cookies, all year round. No matter what she had cooked that day, or if she had cooked at all, it always smelled the same. Perhaps she had some cookie air fresheners she hadn't told him about. He wanted to get some, if that was the case.

He glanced around the room, spotting the half-decorated Christmas tree the two of them had put up two weeks ago. She wanted to stop halfway through, saying she was tired and needed to take a nap. He wanted to stay with her and keep her company, but she made him leave. The decorating was never finished.

He also saw the bags she always brought her gifts in, along with her Santa suit draped across the top of the couch. Maybe she had gone to take a nap before she left and hadn't woken up yet. She'd been taking a lot of naps lately.

When he slowly crept into her bedroom, he saw the small lump in her bed that signaled she was in it. He smiled as he walked up to her, sensing nothing amiss.

* * *

"Ellie, wake up, it's Christmas!" He gently touched her arm, planning to shake her awake, only to end up pulling his arm back swiftly and gasping.

She was so cold. Her skin was as cold as ice. The chills running down his spine weren't from the cold, though.

He was naive, he didn't know much, he couldn't figure out much, but he wasn't so naïve as to not know what was wrong.

He checked her pulse as best he could using the technique Simon had attempted to teach him years ago. There was nothing. Her heart wasn't beating, she wasn't breathing...she was dead. There was nothing he could do.

He just wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to hug her. Instead, he cried.

He didn't believe anymore. He didn't believe in Santa Clause, in the Christmas spirit, in happiness. He didn't believe in anything.

* * *

What was Christmas to him, if he didn't have his Christmas angel? What was Christmas to him, if he didn't have her by his side to help create the illusion that the world wasn't a terrible place filled with death and disease?

He looked at the little child that had been in his lap moments before, who now sat playing on the floor again with his twin brother. He must have given up on waiting for an answer. Children were impatient. He wished he could still be that innocent, like he once was.

But he wouldn't be, ever again. He glanced atop the Christmas tree, where a little Christmas angel sat. The angel had curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She had a flowing white dress, her fluffy white wings were encrusted with emeralds. He forced himself to look away.

This time he glanced out the window to the falling snow. It usually didn't snow here. This was the first year it had snowed since _that night._

He bit his lip and squinted his eyes while looking out the window. He could have sworn he heard someone whisper his name. All he saw was a shooting star.

* * *

He went outside, not a single soul noticing him as he left the house. They were too engrossed in their holiday cheer.

He looked up at the sky, the snow falling and tickling his nose. He felt her. She was there with him.

He didn't want to cause anyone grief this Christmas, but he had to go with her. He had to fly away, with his Christmas angel.

It wouldn't be long before they noticed he was gone. But before they did, they noticed that, atop the Christmas tree where the angel once sat, there was a beautiful, golden star.

Their Christmas angel had flown away.

* * *

**Merry Christmas, thanks for reading! **


End file.
